XIV - RACHEL’S STORY––––––––
“Hello, Fult,” Fibsy sang out gaily to the chauffeur, and received a pleasant response, for few could resist the contagious smile of the round, freckled face of the boy.
“Hello, Mr. Fibsy,” the other returned, “how you getting on with your detective work?”
“Fine; but I want a little help from you.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about anything.”
“Well, then tell me what you don’t know. That fire now, here in the garage, the night of the murder, did you ever find out how it started?”
Fulton’s face took on a perplexed look and he said: “No, we didn’t—and it’s a queer thing. It must have been started by someone purposely, for there’s no way it could have come about by accident.”
“Spontaneous combustion?”
“Whatever made you think of that? And it couldn’t have b
